


Trust Games

by SFDoll



Category: iZombie (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Blaine DeBeers Has Trust Issues, Blaine DeBeers gets triggered, Canonical Child Abuse, Comfort/Angst, Communication Failure, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erotica, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feelings, Humans and Zombies Doing Stuff, Light BDSM, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Zombie Blaine DeBeers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-17 03:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13650597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SFDoll/pseuds/SFDoll
Summary: When Peyton decides to show Blaine her Mistress P routine things don't go as she expected, but Peyton has never been the type to give up.  She sets out to show him just how pleasurable trust can be.





	1. An Accidental Trigger

Peyton stared at Blaine, fully at home on her couch, as she stepped out of her bedroom and did a slow turn to show off the black catsuit costume she'd worn while trying to help trigger a vision for Liv during the Weckler investigation.

"Ooh! La la!" Blaine responded, his face awash in awe as his eyes roamed over Peyton's curves in the skintight bodysuit. He gave her a whistle to emphasize his approval. "I think you should know I feel like a very naughty boy just looking at you," he declared. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he grinned at her, and he gave her a wink.

Peyton beamed back at him, pleased at his reaction—staring at her with all the fervor of a starving man standing before a banquet of all his favorite dishes. She waggled the red fly swatter in her hand at him. "If you come here, I'll give you a demonstration of how Mistress P triggered that vision," she told him in a voice dripping with promise.

Blaine raised his brows and pretended that he needed to think about her offer for a moment. "Well, if you're going to twist my arm..." he complied, and he rose from the couch sauntering towards her with even more swagger than usual. He licked his lips as his eyes trailed over her cleavage and the peek-a-boo cutout revealing even more of her to his eyes.

"So Liv was on her hands and knees there," she said, gesturing towards the floor in front of her, and Blaine shot her a questioning look as he took up the position where she was indicating. "And when I was still reluctant she had the nerve to taunt me about not being any good at this. So I said 'Take it back, you filthy little piggy!'" She swatted him across the posterior with a noticeable thwack.

"Ow!" Blaine protested sharply. He looked back over his shoulder at Peyton with much the same expression Liv had shot her.

"Shut up!" Peyton ordered. She gave him another stinging slap across his buttocks. As much as he normally loved Peyton taking control, he felt a growing discomfort in his present situation. The slap didn't even approach the way Angus or Frau Bader had laid their hands upon him as a child, but the rising feeling of powerlessness reminded him of those moments when he'd known that trouble had been coming for him from just over the horizon.

"Take it back, you undead slut!" Peyton commanded with another smack, unaware of the way the humiliation play caused Blaine's insides to twist. His eyes grew round as he watched her strut around him, tapping the fly swatter against her open palm, as she made her way to stand in front of him. The gesture, made with such an endearingly ridiculous prop, shouldn't have been even remotely threatening, but somehow it made him squirm. The feeling of shame at his own fears and his helplessness burned in his chest, and he didn't want Peyton to see this side of him.

"Take it back or clean my shoe with your tongue!" she demanded, gesturing towards her high heel with the red swatter. Her pink mouth hung open tilting upwards slightly at the edges, as she stared down at him. Having to look upwards towards her made him feel like a small boy again, staring up at the imposing figure of Frieda Bader standing above him in his family's kitchen.

"Do it or suffer!" she warned, "Make it shine!" But Blaine was no longer hearing Peyton. Instead, his head was filled with the imperious, German-accented voice that had spewed implacable orders at him for years—looking for excuses to punish him when he failed. He no longer saw Peyton. Instead, he was seeing the Frieda Bader of his young nightmares towering over him, smelling of disinfectants and cloying floral perfume, as she forced him to clean the kitchen floor with his tongue despite the tears streaming down his face.

Blaine's stomach churned and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. He couldn't breathe, no matter how desperately or quickly he sucked air into his panting chest. Pain lanced straight through his sternum, and the world around him blurred. He needed to run—to find somewhere safe to hide. He could feel the floor rushing up to meet him. Then the world went black.

The next thing Blaine knew he was lying across the wood floor with his head cradled in Peyton's lap and her hands rubbing his limbs as she tried to wake him. He wondered vaguely why she sounded panicked. "My God, Blaine! Are you okay? What the hell just happened?" Peyton exclaimed. "Your eyes went red for a couple seconds, and you looked like you were hyperventillating. Then you just collapsed."

Blaine felt Peyton's fingers brushing against his cheeks, and they came away glistening. Her question-filled, silvery green eyes stared into his own surprised eyes. "What happened? You scared the hell out of me..." she asked again still stroking his cheek.

Blaine closed his eyes. He grimaced as he tried to sit up, but Peyton refused to let him rise. "No," she told him flatly. "You don't get up until I'm sure you're okay... and until I understand what just happened." Looking up at her, Blaine could see the unwavering determination in her eyes. Even if Peyton had to sit on him until Major could arrive with his tranquilizer gun or she had to block the door with her body until he finally gave up, Peyton was fully prepared to do it.

Blaine knew that Peyton had only finally allowed him back in her life under the condition that he be fully honest with her, and he'd been honest if not detailed in his admissions about his past. Now she was asking for more detail, and he was honestly unsure if he could give her the answers she was asking for.

"I've already said my childhood was... messed up," Blaine said. He wondered exactly how little he could get away with saying, and he decided to try for the bare minimum. "Today... we accidentally... dredged up an... old memory." He picked his words very carefully. He nervously bit his lips together, and his bright blue eyes surreptitiously flicked to watch Peyton from the corner of his eyes to see if it was enough to satisfy her for now.

Peyton's fingers brushed over his creased forehead, and she began to rub his temples moving in delicate circles in an attempt to ease the tension and relax him. "So we're clear... you're telling me your father made you lick his shoes clean?" Peyton asked. Her voice sounded abnormally controlled, and Blaine was afraid that if he looked into her eyes right now, she'd be looking at him like something broken and pitiful.

He couldn't bring himself to look at her as he forced himself to answer. "Not Dad. Not shoes."

Peyton's fingers continued to circle his temples for a few moments. "Blaine, I get that you can't easily talk about whatever this was that just happened. I really do," she told him earnestly. "I just accidentally sent you into a... a panic attack... I mean that was a panic attack, right? And I am trying to understand why, because I don't ever want to do that to you again. And I need to make sure you're really okay."

He took a deep breath and let it out with a hiss. "We had a housekeeper... nanny-type, who used to torture me when Dad wasn't there to do it himself. I tracked mud onto the kitchen floor." The experience had made that old wound as raw and fresh as if it had happened yesterday. He had reached the limit of what he could say, and he knew it. So did Peyton.

She nudged the side of his face so that Blaine would look up at her. Her eyes were clearly filled with distress, but, instead of the pity he was so afraid to find, he saw a deep anger—the same anger he recognized in himself when he dared to spend too long remembering the past. "I think we can safely put your father and old housekeeper right next to Mr. Boss on the short list of people I'd like to see dead," Peyton told him.

Blaine smiled in spite of himself. "Aww. I don't think it's ever sounded sweeter to wish the same people dead," he teased, hoping to put the events of this evening behind them, and Peyton gave an involuntary snort of laughter. He felt a surprising sense of relief after sharing the truth with Peyton, but he was more than ready to bundle those memories back inside the dark corners of his mind and bury them away again.

"Just remember once the brain supply is secure for this new zombie population..."

"I turn Boss over to you and testify against him as promised," he finished for her, and Peyton smiled. She ran her finger down the slope of Blaine's nose and gave him an affectionate kiss on the forehead.

Peyton removed the hand she'd been using to restrain him from his chest, and Blaine slowly sat up. "You know... we have a couple of hours before Liv gets home..." Peyton reminded him. She trailed her fingernails lightly down his neck and brushed her fingers along the top of his tense shoulder. "And I think I have just the idea to help you relax."

Blaine flashed her one of his broadest grins. "You have my full and undivided attention," he purred.

When Liv walked through the door hours later Peyton was seated on the couch bent over her laptop, lost in research. She waved distractedly but didn't look up as Liv called a greeting. "Hey! What's all this? I thought you were spending your day off with Blaine," Liv questioned.

"Mmhmm..." Peyton hummed in response.

"This doesn't look like chilling with Blaine," Liv noted. She dropped her keys on the counter, and she grabbed the bottle of pepper whiskey and a glass. Clearing her throat, she raised the bottle questioningly at Peyton, and Peyton nodded. Liv poured a second glass, handed it to her preoccupied friend, and received a grateful smile in response. "So?" Liv asked again, rolling her tense shoulders and taking a seat on the couch by Peyton.

"Blaine's asleep in my room," Peyton acknowledged finally looking up. She drew her lips to one side looking perturbed. She pulled the silky fabric of her robe together in one hand and tightened her belt. Then she took a sip of her drink. "I thought it might be fun to show off my Mistress P routine tonight," Peyton said with a flutter of her hand, and Liv's eyebrows lifted nearly to her hairline apparently afraid of what Peyton might be about to say next.

"It didn't go as expected," Peyton told her, before Liv could interrupt with any fears about too much information. "So I wanted to do some research before seeing if Blaine was game to try again."

"Oh," Liv breathed, a look of understanding creeping across her elfin features. "And Peyton can't stand to fail at something, is that it?"

Peyton shook her head. "No.... well, I mean... It's more than that. I'm looking for information about creating subspace and headspace. Got any helpful memories still from your stint on dominatrix brain?"

"So you're looking for something kinkier to get Blaine into subspace?" Liv asked, cringing.

"Less kinky," Peyton corrected, and Liv choked on her whiskey. Peyton moved to pat Liv on the back, but she waved Peyton off.

"Blaine? Blaine DeBeers? The guy who smacked my ass the first time I met him? That Blaine DeBeers? Are you sure we're talking about the same person?" Liv coughed.

Peyton took a sip of her own drink, her eyes distant. "I mean the guy who is so guarded and defensive about his past that he spent months convincing us that he had total amnesia in order to get away from it," she said. Peyton laid her head on Liv's shoulder, and Liv wrapped her arm around Peyton's back and gave her arm a little squeeze. "The night we broke up he was ready to let me in. He was trying to let me in, but I was so hurt and angry when I found out that he'd broken my trust again. So I broke his trust in return. Then tonight I triggered something, and I realized that it's still broken, Liv. Blaine's trying to fix what he broke, ...but he wasn't the only one who made a mess."

"And this is your plan for fixing things?" Liv asked.

"It's not a plan, and it's not going to fix anything on its own. For the moment, I just need to find ways to make Blaine feel that it's safe to trust me again. I'm looking at all my options, and this has some benefits worth considering." Peyton wrapped her arms around Liv in a loose, comforting hug, while Liv nestled against her in a motherly fashion and rubbed Peyton's back in slow circles.

"Don't you think you need to talk to Blaine about all this?"

"It's already on the agenda. I'm just building my case first," Peyton replied, her steely eyes fixing on the closed door to her bedroom. Her lips thinned, as she chewed on her lower lip lost in thought. She broke away suddenly, and her expression brightened forcibly. "So tell me all about your day," Peyton said looking Liv in the eye and squeezing her best friend's hand in thanks. "What's new in the life of Olivia Moore?"

 


	2. Dirty Talk

Blaine blinked as the bedroom door opened, and the triangle of light poured in across his eyes. With a smile Peyton raised the wooden breakfast tray she was carrying. "Thought it was time to take the breakfast game to the next level," she said, turning her head with a coquettish flare. Blaine widened his eyes and tilted his head as a grin crept across his lips.

"Ooh, and good morning to you too," Blaine greeted her, the warmth in his voice heightened by the sight of toast, scrambles, and a steaming cup of black coffee. He tilted the pillows against the headboard and sat up against them so that Peyton could place the tray across his lap. The sheets pooled around his hips, revealing the bare skin of his chest and the softness of his toned abdomen and reminding Peyton of all the warm naked flesh beneath that thin cotton. "Mmm. Grazie," he said, catching her hand in his as she let go of the tray and bringing her fingers to his lips. He kissed the backs of her fingers, rubbing them for just a moment before letting go.

Peyton crawled onto the mattress beside him and pressed herself against his side, while Blaine took a sip of coffee and sighed happily. "I used the last of the engineer you had in the fridge in it," she explained, as Blaine raised a forkful of eggs, brain, cheese, and potato and took an excited taste. He closed his eyes and chewed slowly letting the flavor wash over him. He looked over at her with a wide grin, and he nudged her temple with his nose in gratitude. "And it's delicious," he said.

His brows drew together questioningly as he finally noticed the stack of papers at the top corner of the tray. He lifted the small stack, as he took a bite of toast, and his eyes narrowed at the title printed across the first page. "Light Bondage Scene Contract?" he asked. His gaze slid towards her, and his forehead crinkled with skepticism and questions. "Looks like breakfast comes with a side of ulterior motives."

Peyton trailed her fingernails down his arm as she returned his gaze. "It's not like that," Peyton assured him. Blaine shot her an expression that was clearly calling her a liar. "Okay. It's a little like that," she paused and wrapped her arms around his bicep, while he ate silently and let her talk. "I hate the thought that something that was supposed to be fun for us left you curled up on the floor in a panic, and I don't want that to be the memory you associate with me playing Mistress P. for you."

"Peyton, if this is a guilt thing, you have no reason to-"

"Yes, I do. I was in charge of the game we were playing. It was my responsibility to make sure you had fun and were safe," Peyton cut in.

"I'm fine, and there was no way you could have predicted what was going to happen. I didn't even know I was going to react like that," Blaine said. His voice turned soft and consoling, and he brushed his fingers against her jaw turning her face so that she was looking him in the eye.

"I still should have checked with you, and I should have noticed when you started having a problem. I spent last night looking up how to do this right, because I want you to know you can trust me... that you're safe with me," Peyton explained.

Blaine slowly grazed his lips across her temple. He lifted the top page of the contract and began to read to himself. "This seems to mostly be a list of kinks and activities for my approval," he noted with an amused laugh.

"I think I can guarantee it is the most stimulating legal document you'll read all year," Peyton breathed into his ear before catching his earlobe between her teeth and nibbling on his tender skin. Blaine drew a loud gasp as she sucked hard on the soft crescent of his flesh. She could feel him shifting his hips and moving the breakfast tray slightly, and she smiled to herself as he leaned into her and offered her the side of his neck. Ignoring his gesture for the moment Peyton pressed the tip of her tongue into his ear, and Blaine made a sound that was half whine and half moan. Peyton slid her tongue in and out of Blaine's ear as her fingers played with his hair and caressed his throat, and Blaine dissolved under the barrage of sensations.

Before he got so distracted that he might try to draw her into his lap, Peyton pulled away. "I kept it simple--yes, no, or maybe. If anything is a maybe, you can specify what you like or what to avoid. You don't have to explain why," Peyton explained. Blaine shot her a sullen glare for stopping just as he'd been getting into her divine ravishment of his ears and throat. Peyton planted a kiss on his bare shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"That's cruel and unusual, Counselor," he husked. With an exaggerated sigh, Blaine turned his attention back to perusing the contract. "Does criminal and interrogator actually count as roleplay for us?" Blaine asked arching his brow and laughing. Peyton gave a snort of laughter in response.

She nibbled on Blaine's shouder and stroked her fingertips against the side of his ribs. Blaine placed the contract down again. He took another sip of coffee; then he captured her fingers in his. "Listen, Peyton, if you really want to do this, I'm in. I just want to make two things clear before I spend the next hour filling out your _very sexy paperwork_ ," Blaine told her, and Peyton stared back at him in curiosity. "First off, you don't have anything to prove. I want to be sure this is something that actually sounds hot to you too. I get you feel like you have an axe to grind after last night, but I wanna be sure it's not just that."

Peyton's eyes softened, and her lips stretched and curled upwards in a cat-like grin. "If it didn't sound like fun to me, I would never have pulled out my costume in the first place," she assured him. "I admit I feel like after everything that happened when we broke up we need to work on building back the trust between us. Last night drove home that it's a two way process. This seemed like a fun game to add to the mix, something we could both enjoy immensely. Some of the scenes I ran across during my research last night got me really hot thinking about playing them out with you."

Blaine flushed pink at the declaration and his eyes darkened with keen interest. "We're definitely coming back to _that_ subject later," he promised with a gleam in his eye. "The other thing I wanted to make clear is that you don't need to walk on eggshells around me. Under normal conditions, I can talk about the past. It makes me angry at them all over, but it doesn't send me into an attack. Last night... accidentally reliving it... that was something else. It brought everything closer to the surface than usual."

Peyton nodded. She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. "I have questions, but I don't think I'm ready to talk about it quite yet. Even after meeting your dad, I didn't realize how bad it was. My father is overly-critical and verbally... Well, I just thought your dad... was the same." She could see Blaine's jaw tighten as he read between the lines. "Now that I know I'm so angry I'm afraid of what I might do. That I might go after them," she breathed. Blaine's arm wound around her shoulders, and he pulled her tight to his side. She laid her head against his shoulder, and his lips pressed against the top of her head as he rested his face in her hair. "I get it. I know," he whispered, and she closed her eyes allowing the mental images of strangling Angus McDonough to fade.

"Do you want some toast?" Blaine offered after a few moments. Despite clearly being hungry, he didn't remove his arm from around her shoulders as he slowly began to eat again.

"Already ate," Peyton replied. She watched him, and he continued to eat with one hand while he rubbed her arm with the other. She could see him sneaking glances at her in profile to make sure she was okay. "Hey, you're at Romero's today, right?" she asked, and Blaine nodded as he swallowed another mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Keep your phone handy today, and your texts _private_ ," she instructed him, making the word private sound particularly suggestive.

Peyton finally got a break in her schedule in the early afternoon. She left a message with her secretary that she was not to be disturbed while she took a late lunch. Then she locked the office door behind herself before returning to her desk. She kicked off her heels and fished her phone out of the side pocket of her purse. She stretched out on the dark leather of her couch with a sigh as she rolled her neck to work out the tension building up after a morning full of meetings with government representatives and brain distributors worried about the new certification for city contracts. She needed a little fun, and Blaine should be done with the lunch rush at the restaurant.

"Hey, Lover.  Excuse yourself from what you're doing and text me from the bathroom," she typed and hit send.

Blaine heard his text alert go off as he was consulting with his head chef about a last minute change to the night's specials. A thrill of anticipation rolled through his stomach, and he could feel a tightening in his groin as he read Peyton's message. "Sorry, Chef. I've been waiting for this text all day. Looks like my business call is ready to start." He nearly jogged upstairs trying not to smile too openly in front of his staff. He locked himself inside the men's bathroom and typed back, "Ready, Mistress."

"That was fast. Have you been looking forward to playing with yourself all day?" she replied.

"Yes, but in my mind it's always you playing with me," Blaine responded.

"Good boy. You're only acting as my hands. You haven't tried to touch yourself without me today, have you?"

Blaine stopped the hand that had been unconsciously inching towards the front of his trousers. "No, Mistress. Just fantasized." He leaned against the grey and white striped wallpaper, cradling the phone in both hands and staring at the screen in nervous anticipation of Peyton's next message. He nearly jumped when instead of the text notification he was expecting the phone in his hands began to vibrate.

"I want you to unzip your pants, reach inside, and take your cock out for me. Then I want you to tell me your fantasy while you stroke yourself for me. Once you're fully hard, I want you to take a picture of your hand rubbing your beautiful, hard cock and send it to me," Peyton commanded in a husky voice. "Understood?"

Blaine swallowed, and eagerness suffused his voice as he answered, "Yes, Mistress P." His stomach swooped at the thought that one of his few remaining lunch customers could knock on the door at any moment. The danger of getting caught only added to his excitement, making him feel like a naughty teenage boy stealing time in any quiet place available for him to explore the wonders of sex for the first time.

Peyton could hear the sounds of Blaine shifting around with the phone and the zip of metal teeth opening. Bending her legs she planted the soles of her feet onto the seat of the couch, and she absently stroked the inside of her knee and up her inner thigh. Her skirt pulled taut as she spread her thighs so that she could reach a little higher while she imagined Blaine exposing his thick cock for her on the other end of the line. She wondered how hard he was as she remembered the beautiful dusky color of his swollen head... the same color as his kiss flushed lips. She shivered at the thought of pressing her mouth against his sensitive rosy skin.

Blaine set the phone on the counter for a moment while he applied a pump of designer hand lotion from the dispenser by the sink into his palm. He rubbed his hands lightly to warm the thin coating of lotion covering his skin, and Blaine hummed softly as he grasped his stiffening prick. His hand glided smoothly over his growing length, and he gently squeezed and massaged himself with a slow rolling motion. "You push me into the bathroom, and you lock the door behind us. You're kissing me like you just can't get enough. Your hands are all over me, pinching my nipples, scratching over my abs, squeezing my ass, grinding me against you... and before I know what's happening you're tugging my pants off and pushing me backwards onto the closed toilet seat."

"Mmm... That's right. I can't get enough of you." Peyton ran her palms over the creamy satin of her blouse, the buds of her nipples responding to the touch and rising against the caress. She raised her hips and pushed her charcoal skirt up to reveal her peach panties and the darkening damp spot spreading with her arousal. "Tell me more."

"You're wearing that slinky wine colored dress that I love, and you guide my hands inside that plunging neckline to fondle your beautiful, soft breasts while you kneel down and start to suck me off. Your mouth is so hot and wet, and your tongue is circling and lapping at me in the most delicious way, and it feels amazing. And the more I tease, and flick, and twist your hard nipples the wilder you go down on me. My eyes are about to roll back into my head, but that's not what you have planned."

"I think you must be very hard by now," Peyton observed. She had the phone cradled between her shoulder and ear, while she taunted her nipples with one hand inside the silky opening of her half unbuttoned top and pressed the fingers of her other hand against the wet satin of her panties, letting them flutter over her clit, which was coming to life with a pulse of it's own.

"God, yes," Blaine breathed back.

"I want to see you. Send me a photo _now_ ," Peyton commanded, her voice thick with desire. "Then be a good boy and wait with your hand motionless on your cock for me to call you back." She didn't wait for his response before hanging up.

Blaine groaned with delectable frustration, as he pulled the phone away from his ear with a fond smile for the woman who was all too able to tie him into knots with the smallest of efforts. He'd been able to hear the tell-tale shifting of the leather underneath her as she ran her hands over her hungry body, and, as he pulled up the camera on his phone, he pictured her hot and bothered at the thought of him and sprawled across that narrow black leather couch where they had first made love.

He held himself as though he were in midstroke, hand halfway up his length, and he snapped a quick photo. Then he pulled up Peyton in his contacts. A forbidden thrill ran through him as he sent it to her. He waited with one hand on his dick and the other on his phone, his eyes anxiously fluttering between the phone's screen and the grey painted wood of the bathroom door. His ears strained for any sounds beyond as he willed his phone to ring.

Peyton smiled as the picture displayed across her screen. She ran her finger over the lines of him, remembering the feel of his silky skin against her fingers, the feel of the veins and ridges of him. She missed having the freedom to touch and kiss him without the restrictions that came with Blaine being a zombie, but the thrill of what they were doing was creating a new feeling of freedom for her with him. This new dynamic that she and Blaine were exploring was forcing them each into unfamiliar territory--exposing whole new aspects of themselves to one another in the very instant they discovered it for themselves. Stripping away Blaine's walls wasn't just exposing his vulnerable side, Peyton too was thrust into having herself laid bare, as she learned to take control to a degree she'd been intimidated to try before. She could feel it forging a new level of intimacy between them.

Blaine made a sound of relief as the phone in his hand buzzed again. "Good job, Lover. I'm sizzling just looking at you," Peyton purred into his ear. Blaine smiled, heat creeping up the back of his neck at her praise. "Have you been a good boy waiting like I told you to?"

"Yes, Mistress P.," Blaine answered. "And it was very, _very_ hard..."

Peyton nearly laughed despite her best attempt to not break character for him, still she suspected he could hear her mirth in the loud exhale through her nose that had escaped before she could cut it off. Summoning her control, she used her voice to reach across the phone to him like a satin glove caressing his ear. "Now pleasure yourself for me while you tell me the rest of your fantasy... but, Blaine, ...you're not allowed to cum. If you get close tell me, but don't you dare cum without my permission!"

Despite his clear sound of protest Blaine replied, "Yes, Mistress." He added a little more lotion and moaned as he ran his hand around the head of his cock a few times. "When I'm out of my head from the things you're doing to me, you suddenly stand up. You start teasingly working that tight little dress up your legs as you back away. You perch on the edge of the marble counter with that dress pulled up to the tops of your thighs and your legs parted enough for me to see that you're not wearing anything underneath. You beckon me forward and point to the floor in front of you for me to kneel. When I do, you run your index finger through your pussy so I can see every detail as you dip your fingertip inside and draw that slick honey up to your delicious, pink clit that's just starting to peek out at me. I'm only inches away, and the sight and smell of you is driving me crazy wanting to bury my face between your legs. Then you paint that glistening fingertip across my lips, and when I try to capture it and lick it clean you tell me that you want me to eat you until you cum. I have to satisfy you with a big enough orgasm if I want to feel your tight, wet body wrapped around my cock."

Peyton's fingers slid beneath the peach fabric of her panties, and she stroked her tingling clit in small light circles as his words painted vivid images in her mind. The breathless excitement and deep rumble of his voice in her ear set off an ache inside her, and she used her thumb to continue rubbing her clit while she pushed two fingers into her waiting channel to quench her body's need to be filled. "That talented tongue of yours is doing one hell of a job getting me off already," she gasped. She raised her hips just slightly so she could thrust back and work herself against her hand.

"You fan your fingers into my hair, and you pull my face into you. And, God how I want to lose myself in you as you moan and shake and grind yourself against my face. You're so wet and soft against my fingers as I stretch and fuck you with them, and I'm desperate to feel you on me. My dick is so hungry for attention, but when I try to give myself a little relief you warn me that I need to concentrate all my attention on your pleasure if I want my own later. Your legs are resting on my shoulders as you hold me right where you want me, and you are starting to get louder as I keep sucking and tonguing your swollen clit. In the back of my mind I'm certain that people are waiting just outside the door listening to us." Blaine could hear Peyton's soft, ragged breathing through the phone as if her lips were pressed right against his ear. Less distinctly he could hear the squeaking of the leather cusions as Peyton writhed against them. "Oh Christ!" he moaned, "I'm getting close!"

"Mmmmm, me too," Peyton sighed. "Slow down. If you have to stop for a few seconds you can. I want you to keep yourself close without cumming. I'm doing the same thing... Now keep going. I'm hanging on every word. What happens next?" She gasped as she flicked her thumb lightly but rapidly over her sensitive flesh.

"So I take my other hand, and I run my middlefinger around your folds until it's good and wet from your juices. I lift you up enough to raise your dress just a little higher so it's out of the way, and then I slide my finger into the crack of your ass and start to rub that slick finger up and down against your asshole." That elicited a strangled whimper from Peyton that left him pausing for a moment to take a couple of deep breaths before he could continue.

"You're right on the brink, and I need you to cum hard for me... so I slowly press the first knuckle of my slippery finger into that tight ring of muscle and make gentle circles with it teasing that pinched little entrance. You cum with one finger in your ass, two of my fingers fucking your cunt, and my mouth devouring your clit. I can feel your openings squeezing my fingers like a vise, and you cry out so loudly that I know somebody outside must have heard, but I'm past caring as you hurriedly pull me up to kiss you. You're still quaking as I pull my fingers out of your pussy and drive into you with my hard cock instead. You're moaning into my mouth and squeezing my ass as you encourage me to take you hard and deep. I'm claiming all of your openings with my finger stretching your asshole, my cock filling your cunt, and my tongue ravaging your mouth. It's everything I've been longing for, and I know this is as close to heaven as I'm ever getting..."

Blaine broke off with a rasp. "Please, Mistress! I'm so close. Please, let me cum. Please, please please..."

"No! I want you to stop and take your hands away from your cock right now," Peyton responded firmly, and she could hear his urge to defy her in his heavy exhale. "I know you've been such a good boy, and you've made Mistress P. very happy. Some rewards can only be given in person. That orgasm is mine to give you, and I intend to give it to you in person tonight."

Blaine gave a resigned groan, and he leaned heavily against the wall letting his head roll back so that he was staring at the ceiling as he let go of his tumescent cock. "Yes, Mistress," he breathed. He willed his breathing to slow, and he grasped the edge of the counter to stop himself from reaching back to finish the job.

"I want you to tuck yourself back into your pants. I want you to finish your day hungry for me, hiding all that frustrated desire just under the surface, surrounded by people who have no idea what naughty games you've been playing for me... For the rest of the afternoon your mind is going to drift back to this and wonder what I have planned for you tonight," she said.

Blaine made a hum of appreciation at her declaration; he had no doubt in his mind that he was going to be preoccupied with fantasies about Peyton for the rest of the day.

"And I want you to know that I'll be doing the same thing. I'm so wet and so horny for you... My whole office probably smells like sex. I'll be dreaming about having you all to myself tonight and the things I want to do to you..."

"God! You're really not going to make this easy for me," Blaine growled, but his lips were tugging upwards into a grin. He listened attentively as Peyton gave him instructions for the evening at her place, and he repeated them back to her when asked. He could hear Peyton setting herself to rights as he tried to arrange himself to head back to work as well. Peyton sounded satisfied when she bid him a sultry goodbye, and he buttoned his jacket to hide his flagging erection before washing his hands and heading back into the restaurant. _Four and a half hours to go_ , he thought, checking the time on his phone before slipping it into his pocket.


End file.
